


More Than Imperfect

by Ironlawyer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironlawyer/pseuds/Ironlawyer
Summary: Tony forgets an important date and Steve tries to help him through his grief.





	More Than Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cap IM Tiny RB Round 5: Armour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567556) by [fantalaimon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantalaimon/pseuds/fantalaimon). 



> For Stony bingo square 'angst'.

Tony is always late. Steve lays the roses on the table and sits alone sipping soda and watching. An elderly couple to his left leisurely cut and chew their food in total silence and he wonders if they have no more words or if they just don’t need them anymore. A group of businessmen talk over each other, and a young couples’ eyes stay on their menus for longer than necessary. The waiters pour their wine and serve their food and bring their bills and still no Tony.

Tony is always late. Steve checks his phone. No messages. He sips his soda. The waiter asks for the second time if he would like to order and Steve tries to smile as he reminds him that he is waiting for someone. 

Tables are cleared and new meals served. He checks his phone. No messages. _‘Everything okay?’_ It’s not that he thinks it isn’t, because Tony is always late.

A man yells at the waiter because his steak is overcooked and normally Steve would pull the waiter aside and tell him what a good job he does. He checks his phone. _‘?’_ He keeps his phone on the table and every few seconds flicks the screen on and off like he’s trying to send a message in Morse code.

His phone buzzes. His arm shoots out so quickly he knocks his soda, the glass wobbles and it’s only his super human reflexes that stop it spilling all over his phone. He checks the sender. But it’s not Tony. It’s Pepper. He pictures Tony being rushed to the hospital, shot or stabbed or having a heart attack. He opens the message.

_‘How’s Tony?’_

His fingers shake as he types, _‘what do you mean’_.

_‘Did he go to her grave?’_

Steve stares at the message, then flicks to his home screen and checks the date and his fingers tighten around the phone until he hears a crack. He grabs the roses and his jacket, tips the waiter and dashes for the door. He looks at the cabs waiting in traffic and pictures himself sitting there tapping a foot and trying not to yell at the cabbie. He’s halfway down the block as the lights turn green and when the cars start to move again, his legs move faster, because Tony is waiting for him.

He reaches the cemetery in less than ten minutes and pauses at the gate. He doubles over breathing heavy, then reaches for the gate with a shaky hand. What if Tony doesn’t want him here? But what if he does? He opens the gate.

He walks through the cemetery with only a vague memory to guide him. The crunch of his footfalls on the gravel is the only thing breaking the silence, like this place is its own oasis. He supposes it’s meant to feel peaceful, but with adrenalin still hammering through his veins and not even the hiss of wind to break the atmosphere, it only seems haunting and lonely. What if Tony isn’t here? He could be arriving at the restaurant or lying in a hospital. He keeps moving.

A glint of gold catches his eye and Steve feels as if a blender in his brain has finally been turned off. The frantic, swirling soup of thought and emotions is suddenly quiet and the stillness in the air now comforting.

Tony is sitting slumped against the grave. He’s wearing the armour but the helmet rests at his side. The faintest crease of his brow, barely visible in the half light, is the only sign of something less than peace.

Steve steps closer and the stillness is broken by the crunch of dew dropped grass beneath his feet. Tony doesn’t turn to look, but his head lifts slightly like he’s waiting for the starting pistol before he runs. 

‘Hey,’ Steve says to let him know it’s him. Tony’s head falls back again but he says nothing. Steve can’t see his face past the gravestone now and it makes him want to move but the silence has settled again and his feet stay rooted to the spot. ‘Tony?’

‘I forgot.’

‘What?’ He already knows what Tony means, but he knows how much he needs to say it. 

‘It’s her birthday.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Steve says because he had picked the day, booked the restaurant, circled the date on the calendar and never stopped to think.

‘I should’ve remembered.’

‘It’s just a day.’ He need to believe it as much as Tony because it hurts him to hurt Tony like this.

‘It feels like every year I get further away from her.’

Steve thinks of Peggy and Bucky. When he first woke up everything reminded him of what he’d lost. The sting of antiseptic on a battle wound, the way the air smelled in a busy bar, a young woman in the park with a pretty red skirt that looked like nothing Peggy had ever worn. He filled countless sketchbooks with their faces until his fingers could move with muscle memory.

He clung to that pain because it was easier than moving on. Moving on was saying they weren’t important. That he didn’t love them enough. With time he found new people to love and began to realise that holding on to that pain was a greater betrayal of their love than letting himself smile again could ever be. He thinks of his past less now but every time he does he smiles.

There is so much he could say to Tony and so little he can say. ‘But every year we get closer together,’ is all he says, and he hopes it means something. Tony says nothing. Steve walks over and sits next to him then puts the roses in his lap. ‘I got these for you, but I don’t mind.’

Tony won’t look at him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t need to be.’

‘I’m sorry I ditched you.’

Steve rests his hand over Tony’s armoured one and the cold metal warms his skin. ‘You don’t need to be.’

‘Maybe,’ says Tony, ‘we could still go to dinner?’

‘Absolutely.’ But they don’t move.

‘You know,’ Steve says after a time, ‘You forgot my birthday too.’

Tony laughs. ‘Yeah, I guess I did.’


End file.
